


Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman, ce qui cause mon tourment ?

by DecayingLiberty, papercrane_wish



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Almost Drowning, Angst, Canon Era, Cemetery, Drowning, Gen, Ghosts, Haunting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Injuries, Pre-Canon, Spirits, Suicide Attempt, it's a spirit pretending to be Marius' mother, ponds - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16478957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecayingLiberty/pseuds/DecayingLiberty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/papercrane_wish/pseuds/papercrane_wish
Summary: Marius gets lost in a cemetery.





	Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman, ce qui cause mon tourment ?

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to [gallicisme](https://gallicisme.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for looking up French nursery rhymes with me that I didn't even end up using... Sorry, you are awesome though!! And shoutout to [Cas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallprotector/) for keeping me motivated!! Love you! <3

It was a foggy morning with an opaque sky as black silhouettes of lanterns and houses and people seemed to materialize from nothing as the distance to them decreased with each step. The fog was dense today. A raised hand before one’s eyes could bear nothing more than a blurred image, wispy, and cloudy as the fog settled between the line of vision.

In this fog, there drove a carriage along a stony path through avenues lined with trees that are now hanging bare and spindly from above, creaking and whispering in the howling wind as if to carry the voices of the dead. Some of them caught onto the outside of the carriage, dragging their scraggy branches along the shiny lacquer, screeching and cracking against the roof and echoing amplified through the inside of the carriage.

Inside, a little boy sat with a tall woman. Her dress was impeccable to the last detail and she took care that her posture was equally impeccable. She was not at all familiar with travelling such distances away from her father’s apartment so early in the day. Opposite her, the little boy wore thick coats and a small hat that all appeared to swallow him whole. Through all the fabric of the coats, from underneath the hemp of the hat, peaked a young face with an ashen tint and dark eyes that were too stubborn to display fear.

The little boy was shaking. The carriage was cold, and his feet and hands have turned icy a while ago. He had considered asking the woman to hold his hand and warm him up but he knew that she wouldn’t like it so he remained silent, hands clutched tightly together around his mittens to keep them from getting colder.

And even though his eyes did not betray his turmoil, it was for certain that the little boy was scared. The branches of the trees produced a shrieking sound, reminiscent of old dreams from freezing nights that woke him in cold sweat and the boy shook not only from the cold as he buried himself deeper into the cushions of the carriage.

The tall woman did not spare him any more words than she deemed necessary, no more than simple instructions that he had to follow. The boy didn’t mind. The instructions were easy to follow and with instructions he had no pressure to talk with words he could barely pronounce. It was difficult to talk with adults, and it was difficult to talk like adults, but the adults wouldn’t answer him otherwise, so he preferred to stay silent. Despite that, he wished that the woman would offer him at least a few words to soothe his racing heart. It was foolish wish, he knew, but he was scared, so very, very scared. The tension in his shoulders made it hard to move.

The carriage stopped in front of an iron gate, looking just as dark and just as spindly as the trees framing it, bare and looming, as cold as the boy felt. The door to the carriage was opened and the tall woman carefully stepped out. She didn’t wait for him to follow, instead, she walked towards the iron gates and waited. For a while the gates didn’t budge but then, they moved, pulled by invisible hands, and their screeching is drowned out by the flattering and cawing of ravens taking flight.

The boy, disregarding all rules, pressed himself close to the tall woman and clutched her skirts, following the black corvids with wide eyes as they disappeared into the sky.

The tall woman glanced down at the boy. “Don’t do that,” she said and pried his hands from her skirts. “Stand tall, Marius, you’re not an infant any more.”

The boy, Marius, reluctantly let go.

“Follow close,” the woman said.

“Yes, Auntie,” Marius answered.

 

* * *

 

The iron gates belonged to the cemetery of a church nearby that was dark and had been in need of care for several decades now. Its tower grew into the sky and over the yard with stained glass shimmering blood red in the dull light. The place felt vaguely familiar to him — a distant memory he couldn’t quite grasp — but either way, he had been here before, he knew where to go what sights to expect.

The ground was more uneven than he remembered. Roots of looming old evergreen trees with crowns that banished all light protruded from the soft earthen ground, slippery and unstable from the morning dew, and Marius struggled to keep up with his aunt who seemed indifferent to it all. She walked quickly with certain strides that he could barely match with his small feet. Still he hurried along, trying his best to match her pace, with his feet slipping and twisting here and there, yet still keeping up.

Then, suddenly, he tumbled, and he found himself on the ground, face and hands and knees scraped open, his whole body aching.

He lifted his head in time to see his aunt disappear in the fog.

 

* * *

 

The fog was too impenetrable for him to see where he was going. Heavy wisps moved around him, obscured and procured objects from nothingness, all of them looming and cold in the dull light of the opaque sky. Marius had tried to walk back, back towards the iron gates and the carriage but every turn he took looked the same, every tombstone looked the same, they were always the same, the same names, the same dead flowers.

He searched and walked and looked. There was nothing but fog, nothing else, nothing, nothing, nothing.

When his feet hurt and the cold became almost unbearable, Marius rested himself against a tree, and despite his best effort to hold back, wept silently, sobbed quietly.

 

* * *

 

_Ma... ri... us..._

The wind moved the bare trees above him, and where there would have been the comforting rustle of leaves, there was nothing ore than the hollow cracking and creaking of dry branches, of small twigs breaking under the force of the wind.

_Marius..._

He wiped his face and looked around, not knowing how much time has passed but knowing that time must have passsed because it was certainly colder now, the wind cut sharper into his reddened exposed skin with the spilled tears amplifying the coldness tenfold.

_Marius... my child..._

Someone was calling him. He was sure of it even though he couldn't recall the exact sound of the voice. Whenever he tried, all he could hear was the whisper of the wind drifting through the branches. The fog had become denser now, not merely cloudy any more but thick and white and impenetrable, all encompassing, trapping. The only thing he could see was the tree he was leaning against.

_Follow me..._

There it was again. The soundless voice calling for him. Now it was closer than before as if the person was close by but the fog was so thick around him that he could barely see his hand before his eyes. Yet Marius was not afraid because maybe it was his aunt. Maybe it was the porter who would lead him out of here.

So, Marius gathered himself up, took his hat and followed. In which direction he went, he could not tell but he knew that he had to follow the wind, that the wind would lead him to the voice. His body didn’t ache any more, his scrapes had disappeared from his hands.

And the coldness, the coldness was gone.

The sun shone from above, a bright white light that soothed the aching cold on his face and Marius thought that this place didn’t look so unfriendly now.

The voice was still whispering to him, beckoning him, and now that he was closer and the wind was quieter, he could hear it singing. The voice was humming a familiar tune, a tune that made him feel safe and at ease, a tune he knew well. The words to the tune spilled from his mouth, he didn’t think of them, didn’t remember them but his mouth did and his mouth was forming words and singing along to the humming of the voice.

There was no fear as in his heart.

 _Marius,_ said the voice, _my child._

“Do you know me?”

_Yes, dear, you are Marius, my child._

“But I don’t have parents...”

_Of course you do. You have me._

“You?”

_Your mother, Marius.. I am your mother._

“Maman?”

_Do you not recognize your mother?_

Marius didn’t answer but took a step forward. Maybe he could catch a look at the her if he came closer. Maybe he would remember her face.

 _Marius,_ said his mother, _Marius, are you happy?_

The voice was coming from next to him, so he turned quickly but he was only met with fog.

“Where are you?”

_Are you happy?_

“I don’t know” Marius answered. He was still trying to see, trying to catch the tiniest glimpse but there was nothing to see.

_Do you want to be happier?_

The voice now came from a distance and Marius hurried as to not lose track of her.

“Wait,” he called. “Wait, stay here!”

 _Come_ , she said _, come to me._

And Marius did, kept following, kept walking. “Please, I want to go home.”

_Do you? Do you not want to stay with your Maman?_

He stopped. “I can?” he asked and turned frantically, looking for the voice, “I can stay with you?”

 _Come with me,_ she whispered, _Come with me and you will be happy._

“I will be happy,” Marius repeated. Yes, that sounded good. He could be with his mother. That was what he had always wanted, was it not?

_Come... follow me..._

“Grandfather won’t be mad that I am gone?”

_Your grandfather will not hurt you here._

“Grandfather will not hurt me.”

_I will protect you... Come to me._

And Marius went.

There was ice on his ankles, ice that crept up his body but he was not afraid. He would be all right, his mother would protect him. The further he walked, the heavier his steps became. He wanted to tell her that he was tired but he kept going. It was all right. He could rest when he arrived.

He would be with her soon. A few more steps and he would be safe.

His mother was humming the tune again, the comforting and familiar tune from long lost days, slow and soft.

A sweet and gentle lullaby.

_Ah, tell Maman, what is the cause of your torment?_

Marius’ limbs grew heavy, his mind became fuzzy. He was tired, so very tired after all the walking and crying. If he closed his eyes, then his mother would certainly carry him home...

The cold ice was now around his stomach and he knew if he let himself fall, he would be completely immersed, he would finally be there...

So Marius closed his eyes and let himself fall.

 

* * *

 

He was yanked back violently and the world immediately lost its spell. All light disappeared from his vision and he was left with the same grey and opaque sky from this morning and barren spindly trees. Water splashed loudly somewhere beneath him. Agitated voices were calling him, talking over themselves in shrill tones that he could not interpret.

He was floating... no... he was being carried.

His face was pressed into the coarse fabric of an uniform, with buttons displaying a crest that he knew he had seen somewhere before.

He blinked.

His clothes were heavy and cold and clung uncomfortably to his skin, and he was shivering all over.

The splashing stopped. It was replaced by the dull thumps of steps on grass and he was set down carefully, yet still, his legs gave out under him.

Immediately, his aunt was upon him, holding his face with both her gloved hands, kissing his forehead and talking, talking, talking.

She was yelling. And she was crying. Her tears dripped from the corner of her eyes down onto his cheek as she leaned over him and examined him, holding him close, and looking at him again and again.

“Marius,” she said, “Marius, what were you thinking?”

His thoughts were twirling. His thoughts were disordered, tangled.

“I wanted to be with Maman,” he said, “She said, grandfather will not hurt me there.”

His aunt looked at him, tear-stained and wide eyed, before she pulled him close again, pressed his cold body against hers as she sobbed into his shoulder.

The porter placed a blanket around Marius' shoulders and Marius couldn’t do anything more than to wrap his arms around his aunt and blankly comfort her as he directed his vacant stare towards the large pond that still seemed to call out to him.

**Author's Note:**

> That one line from the lullaby, I changed the translation to make it fit the story... it's not the actual translation of the lyrics.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it! I hope this was spooky enough! Tell me what you think, either in the comments or on my [tumblr!](https://decayingliberty.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Happy Halloween! ^_^


End file.
